


Nobody Goes to 7-11 in New Jersey

by Dredfulhapiness



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: 7-11, New Jersey, WaWa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 13:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15752256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dredfulhapiness/pseuds/Dredfulhapiness
Summary: Michael only goes to 7-11, and Jeremy is curious why he doesn't defer to the New Jersey experience.





	Nobody Goes to 7-11 in New Jersey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notimeatall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notimeatall/gifts).



> I've read so many fics and none of you have ever been to New Jersey, have you?

Slushies and Sushi were a terrible mix. Most people understood that. Most people, however, weren’t Michael Mell, which is where the problem lies. 

The amount of times you go to Wawa in a week doesn't define your popularity level per se, but Jeremy had never met a cool person who didn't go at least twice a week. And just getting gas doesn’t count. A Wawa trip involves coffee, or a sandwich, of chips. When students arrive at school with Wawa bags in tow, you know they're cool, because they took the time to wake up early enough to drive to the nearest Wawa (no more than 5 minutes away, certainly), and fight the morning hassle. 

In fact, New Jersey itself is practically Wawa branded. It decorated highways, interstates, teenage lunch bags. Anyone old enough to drive understands the importance Wawa has on society: beach trips aren't complete without them, picnics, After-School activities. When play rehearsal runs late, there’s always a Wawa run that was played off as a race against Mr. Reyes’s Hot Pocket breaks. 

The coffee they sold at school was Wawa branded. There were kids who wouldn't go farther than 2 hours into Pennsylvania for college because it turned into Sheetz territory. 

If Rich really wanted his New Jersey tattoo to be authentic, he would have had the logo written in the middle. Wawa is that big of a deal. 

And then there was Michael. Sweet, sweet Michael who never had to fight to get to the front of the line to grab his slushies in the morning. Michael who would tolerate Gas-Station food from a corner store without gas pumps— sushi at that. 

It wasn't the weed’s fault, because even the stoners agrees that Wawa had the best munchie food. In fact, they could be seen toting around the heaviest bags. 

It was cultural fact: Wawa was the corner store of choice. Michael didn’t get that. He still paraded around, proud of his 7-11 slushie, unaware of the social consequences of this simple action. 

Jeremy finally asked him about it as they pulled up to a gas pump at Wawa. Michael put the car in park, rolled the window down, and leaned down to pop the gas tank. 

“If I run inside, you want anything? Slurpee?” Jeremy put his hand on the door handle. Michael shook his head. 

“No thanks, man--” Michael grinned at the gas attendant. “Fill it with regular, cash, please.” He nodded, cursory. The bored worker, who didn’t seem to be much older than them, didn’t return the gesture. Poor kid. The job had to suck, especially in the growing cold of November. 

“You sure you don’t want anything?” Jeremy asked. Michael gave him an odd look. 

“Nah man, I’m full from Pinkberry.” They’d driven into Philadelphia for it, because there wasn’t a single one instate. It was wildly unnecessary, because they lived up near New York city in the town with the only Jamba Juice in New Jersey. According to Michael, though, it was worth the hike, and Jeremy had found himself having a hard time saying no to anything Michael asked of him since…

Not that Michael had brought it up. He’d been a saint about it, really, but it still nagged at Jeremy. 

“You want me to park so you can-- I’m sorry.” Michael turned back to the window, where the attendant had said something. “How much did you say it is?” He grabbed his wallet and pulled out a twenty with a grin. “You want me to park so you can run in?” 

“Do you not like Wawa?” Jeremy finally asked. It came out rushed, almost accusatory. He mentally stepped back, frowned. “That came out wrong. But do you?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m just not hungry.” A car behind them beeped. Michael held up an apologetic hand, turned the car back on, and pulled away from the pump. “You wanna go in?”

Jeremy frowned. “No, thanks. I’ll grab something at home.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’m just curious why you go to 7-11 rather than Wawa.” 

“I don’t have to fight the crowds,” Michael said plainly. “Plus, their slushees aren’t nearly as good.” It was a funny thing to say, Jeremy thought, as they passed three different Rita’s Water Ice stands. 

“It’s just, I don’t know, it’s basically a cultural staple, you know? It’s like… hmm… It’s like what diners were to our parents.” They passed a diner, too, neon and chrome. A sign outside listed the specials, and lit up, “Open 24 hours.” Michael flicked his turn signal on, merged into the right lane to take the jughandle. 

“--Known for their milkshakes and doomed to drop in popularity by the nineties--”

“Or drive-in movie theaters?”

“You know we only have one of those, right? It’s down south. It’s super cheap, too, we should go sometime.” Michael seemed nonplussed. Jeremy wasn’t looking for an agreement, just an acknowledgement. He sighed, only kind of dramatic, and leaned back in the passenger seat. The drive-in did seem fun, though, but as a subject to broach later. Right now, they were talking about Wawa.

“Timeless. You know, a cool hangout spot. Like your basement, but with less weed.”

Michael snorted at that. Jeremy’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“There aren’t even tables in Wawas. They want you to buy your shit and get out.” Jeremy sighed again. 

“They’re so convenient, though,” he nearly whined. “Do you know how many 7-11s we have in this town? Like, 3. Do you know how many Wawas?” He pulled out his phone, tapped something into Google. He counted under his breath. “Seven! We have seven Wawas in our town. That’s, like, a Wawa on every corner--”

“--We definitely have more than seven corners--”

“You have to physically go out of your way to get to a 7-11 and they don’t even sell hoagies.”

“They serve the pre-packaged ones,” Michael said, and Jeremy pulled a face. 

“How can you call yourself a New Jersian?” Jeremy asked, only partially kidding. “Do you also not like tomato?”

“I just don’t get the Wawa hype,” Michael said. “I would have to get up twenty minutes earlier in the morning to go there rather than 7-11, and I don’t even like it as much.”

Jeremy chewed on his lip, thoughtful.

“You good?” Michael asked. Accepting defeat, Jeremy nodded. “Okay, good, because I finally found out today why we can’t pump our own gas and I’m very excited to tell you about it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure I've missed so much Jersey-core things. Nothing is open past 11. You don't want to get lost in Camden. We have nothing to do. But. I'm so angry. There's not a single Pinkberry in this state. There's only one Jamba Juice. You can't convince me these kids live in Jersey. Did Vizinni do any research at all? Did Joe Iconis? Why doesn't anyone know anything about this state I live in. It also pained me to have to make them live in North Jersey. I really wanted to claim them. I didn't edit this. It was written it a blind rage stream-of-consciousness style. I genuinely love the fics I've read, this anger is mostly at Vizinni and Iconis for giving fanfic writers such little truth to work with. Also Happy Birthday Booby. Update: Booby has informed me that Jamba Juice was never mentioned, it was just on the set pieces, so my anger over this is misplaced. Even still, the paragraph will remain because I stand by what I said.


End file.
